


It's About Sending a Message...or Telling a Joke

by dawngloaming



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Male Antagonist, Stream of Consciousness, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 20:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19838134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawngloaming/pseuds/dawngloaming
Summary: A character study on the notorious Joker, just a lil drabble expanding on Nolan!Joker's "everything burns" speech and examining how Joker might feel about existence itself after the accident that made him...written from his viewpoint (not Batman's) though not in first person.Not REALLY batjokes, but I will shamelessly admit I wanted more exposure for this haha





	It's About Sending a Message...or Telling a Joke

**Author's Note:**

> Stream of consciousness, as is my habit. Written with inspiration from The Dark Knight but set in comics-verse.
> 
> This honestly isn't how I usually write him, but. Ok. It was my first time.

Everything burned. So everything must burn.  
There is nothing else left for Gotham, for the world. So he'll just stoke the bonfire, keep it toasty.

The Joker isn't a man, his genes are scarcely human now. Yes yes, he bleeds. But that is besides the point. The thing is, his dna doesn't whisper the same thing to him that the average man's dna whispers with those double helix ventriloquist lips. His biological imperative isn't to bring life to the earth, it's death, fire. 

The growl of hell is a hysterical laugh, really a sort of sob uniquely for the hopeless. 

There is nothing left to Joker's personal existence but burning, like all those pricking flames under his skin... Every good memory, even his empathy, burned away along with the color on his cheeks in one. stinging. splash. 

Nothing remained in his head but for a confusing mess of pain dripping down into his eyes like an oil spill, coloring his world a humorless black that leaves nothing to laugh at...but futility. And oh that's everything, now. 

Nothing in the world, as far as he is concerned is left of the time before the Joker's dawn, before the wild card was flipped face up. It all went up in a blaze of white. 

Existence for the clown is nothing but for fire and ash. It's all he has to hold onto, it clings to his fingertips and the sole of his feet. And so, he trails the flame and dust in his wake...from his wet, acrid grave all the way to kingdom come. Though of course, no heaven lies in wait of this fallen angel, pure as bone, bright yet without light. 

Justice will be his closest salvation, his punchline. Oh it will come for him with a tight noose. It will arrive swiftly over the neverending horizon, or at least a semblance of it. 

When the day comes for the last dance, he'll be dressed to rival a prince, and batman's cape of night will come to block out the sun from this green eyed monster's sight. 

But even this "justice" will be a smoldering thing, the veil of innocent, impartial legality shall burn away from the goddess Dike's eyes. Blood red as Chanel lipstick will splash onto her marble robes, the weary wrath of ages coming down upon the jester's head til it can never raise itself again. 

And it will all be by the hands of HIM, that flying rat...the closest thing he's ever felt to a hate that is so so close to love. 

Everything burns, the cowl shall follow suit. It will. 

But what will remain? 

The Joker has absolutely no clue...but he hopes it will be the joke of jokes...or at the very least, that it will all be just the teensiest bit funny. 

Maybe God can laugh at it. Perhaps even with his friend, the devil. Returned to his side at long last, ruby smile a mile wide, grinning up at him from the lake of fire.


End file.
